Conversations
by Mongie
Summary: Maureen has a conversation with Angel and thinks about the past. MaureenJoanne


Her hands shoved deep into her pockets, Maureen slowly walked through the graveyard. She was the only one there, and the swirling leaves and eerily bare trees could have come right from any movie. Maureen felt like she was in a movie, and not in a good way, like she usually did. It felt too fake to be here, for this to be real. People only came to talk to their friends in graveyards in stories, but here she was, coming to talk to her friend.

The small grave wasn't different from any of the others that surrounded it. That, Maureen felt, was almost as sad as it being here in the first place. Angel should not be left anonymous among the other departed. Turning her head to make sure she was alone, she crouched down by the headstone. Already, she could feel the tears gathering and her throat getting thick and choked. Gathering her breath, she slowly traced the name on the stone. _Angel Dumott Schunard: April 22, 19-- - October 27, 19--._ "You should be here," she whispered.

She shook her head. It felt silly, talking to a silent stone, but she didn't know what else she could do. It was the only way she knew to grieve—Maureen had never been good at internalizing anything. "I know I'm a day early," she said quietly, "But tomorrow is for Collins. He'll be here for most of the day, I know, and Mimi and the others will too." She took a deep breath that verged on a sob. This is why she hadn't came with the others. She needed to talk her grief, needed to pretend that Angel was listening, and she needed to do it alone.

She settled back on her heels, wiping her eyes on the cuff of her coat. "I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with, but I never had any problems getting along with you. And you helped me so much, even if I usually took too long to listen."

* * *

It was good to have everyone together for once. It didn't happen very much anymore as everyone found their different paths. But there were Mimi and Angel, laughing as they painted their nails. Collins and Mark were laughing and joking with them. Roger was brooding in the corner, staring at Mimi, but at least he was there. Even Joanne was there, on a chair opposite Maureen and painting Angel's other hand.

It was good, but it wasn't _right_. They weren't in the loft or at the Life—they were in a_ hospital_. Angel was on the bed, hooked up to a couple of monitors and looking drained and weak. The spirit was still there—she was still cheerful and vibrant—but everyone could see that she was fading. It was there in the grim forced-cheer of the room. Everyone wanted to keep a happy front for as long as they could. Maureen and Joanne were no exception, although they hadn't said a word to each other the entire time they'd both been there.

I bet it was hard for her to tear herself away from her work, Maureen thought spitefully, turning attention away from the conversation to steal a glance at Joanne. Joanne was teasing Mark about something, causing Angel to laugh. She drooped a little.

She wanted to believe that Joanne was all about business, that Joanne was too uptight to really fit into this group, but now that this fight had dragged on for months and her temper had cooled off a bit, she knew that she was wrong. Joanne was here because she cared, cared as much as Maureen. Maureen could see the strain on her—the deep circles under her eyes, the tightness of her mouth.

Joanne looked her way, and Maureen quickly dropped her gaze, a faint blush staining her cheeks to have been caught staring.

Not that she cared what Joanne thought, or missed her or anything. Maureen may have been wrong about Joanne fitting in, or Joanne only caring about her work, but she still hadn't forgiven her for the rest of the fight. Maureen was who she was, and if Joanne couldn't accept that, well, Maureen wasn't going to go crawling back and trying to change herself. She wouldn't. Even if she sort of wanted to…

* * *

Maureen leaned forward in the hard plastic chair so that it wouldn't dig into her spine anymore. Resting her forearms on her knees, she stared blankly at the floor. Today was her turn to stay with Angel, to give Collins a chance to rest without leaving Angel alone.

No one wanted to leave Angel alone, not at this point. It was only a matter of time, maybe days. No one knew, and so everyone was here as much as they could and divvied up the rest of the time between themselves.

She sighed softly so that she didn't wake Angel. It was depressing beyond belief for her to be here in this quiet, sterile hospital room with someone who'd used to match her in glamour and glitz but who could now only lie on a bed and hang onto life. Not that she regretted being here and doing her best for Angel, she was just—

"Maureen-love?" Angel's raspy voice interrupted her.

Maureen looked up quickly. "Is everything okay? Can I get you anything?"

Angel shook her head slowly. "No, I'm fine, honey. Or at least as fine as I'm going to be," she paused for a minute before continuing, "I'm worried though. Maureen, why haven't you and Joanne at least talked? It's been since Valentine's Day, and you haven't said a word to each other more than necessary."

Caught off guard, Maureen fumbled for an answer. "She was—we don't—we can't have a relationship. She just doesn't understand me, or want to change or even talk to me." She took a deep breath, warming to her subject. "She was strangling me, and I can't live like that! And she's…she's too structured to ever change."

"But you miss each other," Angel countered, "You both look at each other when the other's not looking, and neither of you has seriously dated since."

"We've tried," Maureen said, a little pathetically, "We tried to work it out, but it always ends in fights."

Angel smiled. "But are you happier when you're together and disagreeing some of the time or apart and missing each other all of the time?"

Maureen stared. "What?"

"Baby, when you guys were together, there were times you both fought and got angry, but there were also times when you two were so into each other the rest of us might as well not have been there. Since you've broken up, I don't think I've seen either of you unreservedly happy for more than a few minutes." Angel smiled again at Maureen's blank look and slowly gestured towards the door. "Go get yourself some ice cream from the cafeteria and think about it honey," she said, "I'll be fine here for a little while."

"Thanks," Maureen said, getting up and trailing uncertainly out the door. Angel's words had turned her brain upside down. She'd never considered it from that angle, and now she had to reexamine the past months all over again.

* * *

Maureen smiled sadly at the silent headstone. "I thought about it all that day, all the next day, for the next week even, but I didn't follow through with it until you were gone. I never even talked to you about it again. I couldn't make myself forget the fights yet, and then your condition deteriorated and there was no time to think about it…"

She paused to wipe her eyes off again and fumble in her pocket for a tissue.

"You were right though. You always were."

"It's us, baby. We were the lucky ones."

Maureen's voice cracked on the last word. Tears built up in her eyes until they spilled down her cheeks and over her dry and trembling lips to drip off her chin. She clamped her mouth shut against the trembling, actually hurrying off a stage for once in her life. If she let just one of the sounds building up inside of her out, the dam would break, and she'd start sobbing. Pride and concern kept her as calm as she could be. She would not make a scene here, not now. Not on this day and not with Joanne here. This day wasn't about her. It was about Collins, and what they had all lost.

How could Angel be gone? How could she go and leave them all like this? Didn't she know that's she'd kept them all together? All the tensions, the little strains and the unspoken problems that had been brewing all year were steadily growing stronger, before she was even cold in the ground. Maureen crept back to her pew and sat down quietly, still biting her lip. Across the aisle, she could see Roger sitting in stony silence, staring straight ahead. Maureen was having trouble keeping her grief contained—Roger might as well have been stone, only his red-rimmed eyes betraying just how upset he was. Mark sat beside him, a devastated look on his face. In front of her, Mimi and Benny were sitting together. She couldn't see their faces, but Mimi was huddled against Benny's side, shaking as much as Maureen. As Collins moved to the front to give the final eulogy, Maureen carefully did _not_ look behind her to see how Joanne was holding up.

Maybe Angel had been right, maybe they were happier when they were together and fighting, but Maureen still wasn't ready to apologize. She desperately wished she knew if Angel had talked to Joanne about the same thing. But now was not the time to ask. Angel was gone, and Maureen couldn't focus enough to think clearly about it. She also wished she had someone here to hold on to, but everyone was locked into their own world.

She got through the procession to the graveyard in a haze, not walking or talking with anyone. She even held up through the burial, until it was her turn to put a flower on the little pile. This couldn't be real. They couldn't all be standing here, together, but divided by a network of chasms. She wasn't talking to Joanne. Roger wasn't talking to Mimi. Mimi was ignoring Roger in the same way Maureen was ignoring Joanne, and would only talk to Benny. Mark was too busy staring (but not talking to) Roger to talk to anyone else. And Collins was off to one side, talking to no one.

By some unspoken feeling, they all started towards the front of the cemetery to leave Collins alone.

"It's true you sold your guitar and bought a car?" Mimi's voice broke the silence as she addressed Roger for the first time that day. Everyone trailed to a stop.

Roger slowly turned around. "It's true. I'm leaving for Santa Fe."

Maureen stared in shock. Roger was leaving? For good? When had this been decided. Had she been that wrapped up in her own world that she hadn't noticed this? Evidently though, this was an old sore between them, because no one but her looked surprised.

She looked at Mimi in concern. The girl didn't look well at all, and she was staring at Roger like he was the one thing that mattered to her. Benny, of course, chose that moment to chime in. "You said you weren't going to talk to him again," he said to Mimi, his arm tightening protectively around her. He glared at Roger.

Mimi brushed him off. "Not now."

Maureen immediately bristled. She and Roger had _always_ teamed up against Benny, and so, even though she didn't know about the situation, she felt compelled to jump in. "Who said you have any say in who she says things to at all?" she demanded. If he wanted to support Mimi, or even if they were sleeping together, that was fine, but no way could he come in and try to control people anymore.

"Who said you should stick your nose into _everything_?" The challenge came from Joanne, catching Maureen off-balance. She spun to stare at Joanne, who was staring straight back at her, hands on her hips.

And here it was, the reason they never worked. Neither of them could say anything without the other challenging them. Maureen's blood boiled.

* * *

"I'm surprised you didn't come right out of your grave and kick all our asses, Angel," Maureen said, "I've never seen Collins so angry."

She shifted, her ankles were getting sore and tired. "I'm sure you know all this already. It's just, we came so close that day to fracturing everything forever. We all said stuff we shouldn't have, but we were eventually able to put it all back together, and I don't know if that could have happened if Collins hadn't come at that moment. Your man did you proud that day."

* * *

They all stood in an uneasy silence, realizing what they had been doing, and where they were. This was _Angel's funeral_ and they couldn't keep from fighting.

Maureen bit her lip and looked at Joanne, remembering what Angel had said to her in the hospital. Joanne is standing next to Mimi, looking down at the ground, and looking so alone. It wasn't right. Joanne was supposed to be the strong one. She was supposed to get mad at Maureen, but she wasn't supposed to hurt this much. It hurt to look at her.

Maureen couldn't do this anymore. She went up to Joanne and silently put a hand on her arm. Joanne looked up, startled. They looked at each other for long seconds, and suddenly they had their arms around each other. "I missed you," was all she could say, her face buried in Joanne's shoulder.

* * *

"Maureen?" Joanne's voice said from behind her. Maureen turned to look, almost overbalancing. Joanne was standing there, looking concerned. "Maureen, I know you wanted to be alone, but you've been here for forty-five minutes now. I was getting worried. Are you okay?"

Maureen smiled, feeling more tears slide down her cheeks. "I'm fine, pookie. I just…I had a lot to get out."

"Oh, baby." Maureen let Joanne pull her up and into a hug. "It's been a hard year without her, hasn't it?"

Maureen slid her hands around Joanne's waist. "Yeah, it has. But it would have been worse if you hadn't been in it with me." She pulled back and gave Joanne a quick kiss. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Joanne smiled and kissed her back. "You just say that because I'll come to all your shows." Maureen smiled a little, as Joanne had intended. "Are you ready to go, or do you need more time?"

"I'm ready, just let me do one more thing." Turning, she pulled a plastic, purple daisy out of her pocket. It was meant to be pinned on a coat, but she carefully bent the pin out and stuck it into the ground on Angel's grave. "It'll last longer than real flowers, and Angel liked bright colors," she said, feeling the need to explain.

Joanne clasped her hand as she stood up. "I'm sure she'll love it, honey."

With a last look back, Maureen let Joanne lead her out of the cemetery.


End file.
